Journal: Internet, Cars, Cats, and 'Sneaks'

Here’s a shot of a crested duck I took in the little town of McCaysville, right on the Georgia/Tennessee line.  These ducks look like this because of a genetic mutation causing a deformity of the skull.

They bob their heads around as if all those feathers feel funny up there, kind of like my little girls used to do when I made long curls of their hair, or put a swinging ponytail up on top. 

The crested was with a big domestic goose, a mallard pair, and a mallard/black hybrid, and they were all quite tame.  It’s always fun to bump into a plump of friendly waterfowl looking for a handout.  ‘Bump into a plump.’  Isn’t English grand??  

Larry worked late a few nights last week.  The rain made some of the jobsites muddy, and that always makes it trickier to get around with his big truck and trailer.

I don’t often call or text him, because I don’t like to interfere with his driving or working.  But ... if he should happen to be done working for the evening, and is lollygagging around at one of the kids’ houses ...  I wonder if he’d hurry a wee bit faster if I wrote and told him there’s a big pan of spaghetti and meatballs on the stove?

A friend was asking about socks for a brother-in-law who was having trouble keeping his feet dry and warm at a job – and he’s allergic to wool, he says.  Good socks are important in the work Larry and some of our sons and sons-in-law do, too.  In the sports department at Wal-Mart, there are excellent socks – some are wool, some are knit polyester.  Both are thick and soft.  I’ve purchased them many times for my family – the menfolk work out in all types of weather, and many like to go hunting.  These are good socks.  They are $10 a pair, or thereabouts. 

As a sidenote:  most of the time, when people are allergic to wool, it’s because the wool is inferior.  If the wool is of high enough quality, it won’t bother them in the slightest.  I thought I was extremely allergic to wool – but I have discovered that the better the grade of the fabric or yarn, the less likely I am to be sensitive to it.  I have not the slightest sensitivity to really fine wool.

If you think you are allergic to wool, you should try draping a piece of vicuna wool around your neck.  It’s unbelievably soft – and they (whoever ‘they’ are) guarantee, there’s not a soul in the world who will be allergic to it.  “It’s the finest hair on the planet!” they proclaim.  (What, did they forget about Gene Tierney?)

’Course, a suit will cost you upwards of $40,000, and a nice scarf will start at 4,000 smackeroos.  You’d better not be allergic to it, at that price! 

A few other types of socks that are good for people who are on their feet, and need moisture wicked away:  Cushees-Triple-Thick-Ankle-Socks

These are premium hikers – one of the best:  Premium Hikers   These would be excellent socks to prove my theory about wool allergies, or the lack thereof. 

Here’s some with arch and ankle support:  Arch-Ankle Socks

These are cotton moisture-wicking:  Wicking Socks

Tuesday morning, I looked out the front door – and there sat Victoria’s Touareg forlornly in the front drive.  I looked out the back patio door – and found that the Aurora was gone.  Yep, the battery on the VW had gone flat again.  Something was draining the battery – and it was a brand-new battery.  It’s too bad when that happens; it’s hard on batteries.

Larry looked it up online, and learned of a few things on the vehicle that have a tendency to drain the battery.  The CD player may have been doing it, as there’s possibly a CD stuck in it, and it won’t come out, and it won’t play.  He pulled the fuses to the player and one other non-essential thing he’d read about, charged the battery back up, and it’s been okay ever since.

That evening, I had troubles collecting email and going to a couple of websites, while other websites continued to work fine.  The people at our local Internet Service Provider didn’t seem to have any idea what the trouble was, and they weren’t too awfully worried about it, either – especially since they knew Larry would soon be home, and I could use the hotspot on his cell phone to connect to the Internet.

By the next morning, everything was back to normal – and I had done nothing different with Internet or computer to cause either the problem or the remedy.  Therefore, I go on thinking the problem is on the provider’s side.  They are either unconcerned or certain it’s on my side.    

Well... everything was behaving as it should again, so I decided not to worry about the issue.  It would come back to haunt me again, though, a few days later.

That evening, thunderstorms came rolling in from the west.  I looked at AccuWeather, and saw that there was a lot of snow falling in Colorado.

By 8:30 p.m., thunder was really rumbling.  In Marshall County, Kansas, they had grapefruit-sized hail and 80 mph winds.

We had spaghetti and meatballs for supper, with apple salad and vanilla pudding.  I took some to Loren, and included corn and mixed vegetables in case the spaghetti and meatballs didn’t digest well (it did, he told me later).

Outside, it started to sprinkle.  There was a big, bright flash of lightning, and immediately thereafter a loud crash of thunder.

The big orange cat that we’re calling Tigger wanted in the house.  I didn’t want him in.  Still, I felt sorry for him.  I gave him some food, spoke kindly to him, and rubbed the sides of his neck, which always makes him purr.  He knows how to get into the garage; he doesn’t need in the house.  Teensy concurs with this.

But Tigger is getting more and more determined that we are his people.

I didn’t want another cat!  But I can’t be mean to him; he practically begs us to like him.

I’ve always loved animals... but I’m tired of coping with them.  We have to worry about them, if we ever want to go somewhere... find someone to care for them...  Aarrgghh.  But, like I say, I can’t be mean to him.  Can’t ignore him... have to feed him...  I repeat, Aarrgghh.

What really gets my goat is when I come wandering out from the bathroom in the morning, all squeaky clean, heading for the coffee machine – and suddenly I have to run in midair for a little while to avoid stepping in throw-up and having it gish up between my toes.   

A few minutes later, Tabby burst through the pet door, squealing and hissing.  I yelled (he always knows I’m not yelling at him, and runs right to me for protection), ran to the garage door, and jerked it open.  Sure enough, the short-haired black cat was running from the porch steps.  He’d probably nailed Tabby just as Tabby was trying to come inside through the pet door.

There are waaay too many beasts around this joint!

Sometimes in the past when stray animals showed up, I called our Humane Society, but they won’t come and get them, nor will they let me bring them in, because we live out of the city limits.  We have given strays away, when we could.  But one time, we caught a mean, nasty tomcat that kept coming in the house, spraying, and attacking our cats, by setting a cage-type trap near the pet door.  That cat, we transported to a new location.  He was one wild, mean cat.  Sad thing is, he used to be someone’s pet, but they practically abandoned him when he grew out of the cute kitten stage, and they let their dogs bullyrag him, and pretty much let him root, hog, or die.  They didn’t neuter him, either.

Still, I felt sorry for even that beast, because as we drove through town by the dark of night, with the cat in the cage in the back of Larry’s pickup, he kept staring up with huge eyes at the streetlights as we went underneath them, cringing and making tiny mewling noises, big old savage that he was.

But... he’d killed neighbors’ kittens, severely hurt other cats, including one of ours, and either Larry or one of the neighbors was going to shoot him – so we at least spared him that.  We dropped him off on the other side of the river in a rural area.  I wasn’t worried about him finding food; he found plenty of mice and birds around our house, and there were more where we let him loose.  And no homes for miles.  

It sure makes me angry when people won’t take care of their pets!  They cause trouble for everyone, including the animal itself.

Speaking of ‘too many beasts around the joint’...  Amy is having some troubles of her own.  She sent me a message:

Grant, age 3, had come running, saying, “Mama!  Muffin (the kitten) caught a sneak!”  

(He says ‘sneak’ instead of ‘snake’.)

And there he was, right in the house, holding the thing by the tail!     (The sneak, not the kitten.)

It was a garter snake.  The new puppy Molly is in the background.

Well, the first thing, of course, is to take a picture.  Next, Ethan collected it the right way (behind the head) and relocated it back outside.  

The snake wasn’t squirming, evidently somewhat subdued by having been bitten and shaken by the kitten.  Garter snakes are supposedly harmless, but they can indeed bite hard enough for it to hurt and draw blood.  If they are big enough, and bite a small child or a kitten, they can make the child or little animal sick.

One time back when Tabby had all his teeth and was a real feline hunter, I found him chowing down on a field vole while beside him lay another ... something.  I couldn’t make it out, as it lay there in the grass.  I leaned down, picked it up by its short tail to lift it and identify it – and then my sweet, docile, cuddly, purry, little Tabby cat growled ferociously and swatted that thing (it was a young mole) right out of my hand, and covered it with his paw whilst he consumed the vole!

I burst out laughing.  ”Tabby!!!” I exclaimed, and he replied in his funny kitten-voice, “Me!  Me!  Me!  Me!” clearly explaining, “That’s my dessert!  You can’t have it!”  

Tuesday evening, I hemmed three pairs of pants for Larry, and then worked on the Buoyant Blossoms appliqué, getting another 50 little appliqué pieces put in place.  It’s hard to tell where to set down the next piece, after several layers cover up the pattern under the fabric.  But the new light really helps.

Last week, a long train pulling flatbed cars loaded with the various parts of columns for those tall wind turbines sat on the tracks halfway between here and town for several days.  Perhaps you have heard how many birds are killed by those things?

Well, here’s a bit of good news about those turbines:  all blades are now equipped with things along the edges that look sort of like combs – I saw them close-up when trucks hauling blades pulled into a rest area where we were – and those combs make odd, high-pitched whistles and noises that ward the birds off.  Even older turbines that were put up before they came up with these whistles are being retrofitted with them.  It has cut down on bird killings immensely.  When they first started making wind turbines, they didn’t even think of birds hitting them, and just made them run as quietly as possible – which was next to silent.  

Wednesday afternoon, I pulled up AccuWeather.  It was almost May, but ------ there was a big ol’ snowstorm, just 150 miles to our west!  I told Larry about the snow out there in the Sandhills, and he said, said he, “Oh!!!  I need to get out there with my four-wheeler!”

I’m married to a teenager.

As I headed to town to pick up five grandkiddos from school, I flipped on the radio to listen to the weather.  I didn’t have to wait; the weatherman was all in a lather right that exact instant:  “There’s a large and dangerous tornado on the ground, on the ground, in west Omaha, right this moment!  Right this moment!!” he panted, sounding quite a lot as though he was running from it even as he spoke, although the radio station’s location is 70 miles northwest of Omaha.  There were two more tornadoes in western Iowa.  Unless it was one, and it got counted twice.

After taking the children home, I returned to my sewing machine, and listened to the weather on my laptop.  I have three weather apps.  Reckon that’s enough? 

The Omaha tornado seemed to have dissipated suddenly.  The weatherman made no more mention of it for a couple of hours, and then he quickly and somewhat sheepishly announced that there were no damage reports.  The Omaha meteorologist came on and said in a wondering voice that he was out driving in west Omaha, and could find no damage.  Maybe he should’ve made some, just to save face?

Somebody want to explain to me how a ‘large and dangerous tornado’ trundling along on the ground, smack-dab in the city proper, produced no damage??

Methinks somebody was overwrought overmuch.

Meanwhile, bad weather was circling all around us, leaving us in the clear.

By time for church, I was up to #156 on the appliqué work.  There is a total of 269 pieces, so I was well past halfway.  I might’ve been a smidgeon farther along, but Teensy has been on my lap whenever he can, the last few days, underfoot (or undersewingmachine) other times.  He’s staying indoors (“There’s a lion in the streets!” – Proverbs 26:13) and playing King of the Mountain on the boxes I have stored in the little room under the front porch.  

I generously gave him some of Tabby’s soft food, poor ol’ thing.

The feral black cat keeps trying to come in the pet door – and more often than not, there is then a wild, screeching, hissing, fur-flying frenzy when he encounters Tabby, and sometimes, Teensy.  Aaauuuggghhh...  Cats!

That night after church, we were visiting with Lydia.  She was holding Baby Ian, and he was sound asleep.  Lydia was talking to us, and to Caleb and Maria, and every time she laughed, Ian grinned in his sleep.  Sometimes, he almost laughed, too.  But he didn’t wake up.  Funny little baby.

When we got home, Kurt, Victoria, Jared (Kurt’s brother), Larry, and I all gathered around the piano and sang for a while.  Good times.

I then trotted downstairs and worked on the appliqué, getting up to #206 before I threw in the towel for the night.  Only 63 to go!  I finished gluing down all the pieces the next day.

Thursday evening, I took Loren some supper:  chicken breast filet with biscuits and gravy, corn, broccoli, and lime jello.  Then I did a quick run (via Jeep, as opposed to shankhosses) to Wal-Mart for a few necessities, including those items they can’t ship to my door:  milk, yogurt, orange juice, etc.  I got a wee bit carried away; had troubles controlling myself in the thread aisle.

And then I was ready to start stitching.  Now, if the pieces of the appliquéd basket would just stay glued down while I sewed...

Even after a lot of dashing around a good part of the day, I didn’t get close to 10,000 steps on my pedometer, though I do think I get in a few more steps than the pedometer registers.  It takes 13 steps to become active after it’s gone dormant, and I know that as I trot back and forth in my sewing room, I often start and stop before I’ve gone 13 steps.  That day I got up to about 5,500 steps by evening... and then I forgot to look at it later before I went to bed.

I wonder how many steps I would’ve registered when I was, oh, say 15 or so, running, riding my bike, and dashing hither and yon all over town from the moment I jumped out of bed in the morning until the minute I reluctantly hopped back in, late at night? 

Amy sent pictures of their puppy Molly, and Warren in the cute little outfit she sewed and crocheted for him.

I’ve been thinking about the vintage Sunbonnet Sue blocks I have to put together one of these days.  I want to do an Irish Chain of some sort between them, double or triple.  I measured the blocks – and discovered some are 15 ½” x 15 ½”... some are 11 ½” x 12”... some are 12” x 11”...

Some are on woven fabric so thin you can read the newspaper through it.  Cheesecloth, maybe?  Some are on something thick and soft, almost like a natural Oxford or something.  I’ll have to line the thin stuff with something that will make it approximately the same thickness as the thicker fabric.  And I’ll trim them all down to match the smallest block. 

A friend who has an Innova longarm machine calls herself an ‘Innovian’.  I wrote and asked her what I am, having an HQ16. 

“It’s already in the name,” she responded.  “You are a HandiQuilter.”

“Awww...” I said, “I thought sure you’d come up with something more exotic.”  Then, “Actually, sometimes things go askew, and then I’m an UNhandiquilter.”

All that thread I got... and they didn’t have any light, medium, or dark coral, and no medium or dark lilac.  Lavender, but not lilac, nor dull plum.

What’s the matter with them, that they don’t know we need dull plum?!!

I got all the flower petals and most of the leaves stitched down on the central appliqué block that night. 

Since Saturday was the last day in April, the first thing on the agenda was to post the Buoyant Blossoms BOM – this one, the Poppy block I made a couple of weeks ago.  It’s the 8^th block in the series, and will be a free download for one month:  Poppy Appliqué Block

A lady wrote to me, “I’ve seen only red poppies; didn’t know some were multi-colored.”

Corn poppies are dual-toned:

There are many colors of poppies – purple, red, orange, yellow, lavender, lilac, fuchsia, white, pink, coral, peach, blue, aqua... they come in all colors of the rainbow.  Some are ruffled; some have simple petals... many are multi-layered, some are single.  Some have black centers, some have yellow, some white.  There are miniatures, there are tall ones... some with fern-like leaves, some with long, rippled leaves. 

We have come up over mountaintops and looked down into valleys filled with orange poppies, violet-blue lupine, snowy-white Shasta daisies, lavender alpine asters, and bright red Indian paintbrush.  Now there’s a sight to put everyone into awed silence!  (Or a jabber of ecstasy, one or the other.)

Anyway, I’m giving away the pattern, not the fabric.  You can make it whatever color you dearly well wish.

The poppy-printed fabric I used made it not-so-well-defined.  If I had it to do over again, I’d use plain batiks.  But... there it is, good or bad!

Everything was changed again on Scribd – in fact, all my patterns that I had listed for sale were sitting there big as you please, for free!  Huh?

So I tried putting the price back in, and was informed that I didn’t have the type of account wherein I could sell things on that site.  Huh??!  I’ve been selling stuff on that site since last September!  Sooo... I just deleted all the other pdf files that weren’t supposed to be free.

Those who can’t click the down arrow at the bottom of the embedded pdf file, in order to download it from Scribd, can download from my Craftsy store:  Sarah Lynn’s Craftsy Store

I took Loren some supper:  ancient-grain-encrusted cod, clam chowder, mixed vegetables, sliced apples in peach Fruplait (a quick and scrumptious apple salad), and lime jello.

Then I got back to working on the center appliqué block for the Buoyant Blossoms BOM.  The leaves were all stitched down, and I began sewing the basket pieces.  I’m almost done with it; just a few more pieces to stitch down.  This one is like a complicated jigsaw puzzle.  I hope I can explain it properly, and I hope everyone doesn’t get mad at me, when they try it and find out it’s tricky.  I’m going to suggest people use fusible and a satin edgestitch, if they don’t want to press under all those edges.

Now I’m encountering a few ladies who don’t wish to sign in anywhere, so therefore they cannot download my patterns (since they have to get them from Scribd, or Craftsy, or Etsy).  “I’m not going to join another group, just to get your patterns!” some exclaim.

Sure, I could email it to them... but in the last 3-4 months on Craftsy alone there have been over 3,800 of my patterns downloaded.  I don’t have time to personally and manually email that many patterns, for pity’s sake!  Furthermore, I happen to know that at least a couple of them actually do have accounts at Craftsy; they’ve mentioned it before.  Sooo... why won’t they download my pattern there??  Those are stores, not groups. 

One lady thought it was my fault that she couldn’t get signed in.  “I used the same email and password I’ve used for years!” she declared.  Siggghhhhh...

So I do what I can to help, offer suggestions, and then go away shaking my head and muttering to myself, probably just like they are doing over on the other side of the Internet.  ;-)

Speaking of groups... several groups I am on send out lists of rules once a month – one group sends out a good half a dozen emails on the first of every month.  I’d tell you what they’re about, but I haven’t the faintest idea, because I delete them posthaste, the moment they arrive.  I avert my eyes whilst doing so, the better to read not so much as one solitary word.  What, do I look like a Kindergarten student to you, who needs a list of rules to follow?  And once isn’t enough; I have to be told and retold, ad infinitum, ad nauseum. 

I wonder how many people actually read all that malarkey? 

While I sew, I like to listen to things such as biographies on www.sermonaudio.com.  The latest one is The New Spurgeon Biography, written in 1987 by Arnold Dallimore.

Here’s the book (or at least one of them – there must’ve been several printings; one didn’t have the word ‘New’ in the title):  Spurgeon—A New Biography

It’s a little insulting when the description of the book starts off like this:  “This will meet the need of those completely ignorant...”

Arnold Dallimore himself is interesting to read about:

Arnold A. Dallimore (1911-1998) was born in Canada of British parents.  He was pastor of the Baptist Church at Cottam, Ontario, for almost twenty-four years.  During his studies at Central Baptist Seminary, Toronto, he was awakened to a life-long interest in the great evangelist George Whitefield, whose biography he was to write (2 volumes, published by the Trust).  He also wrote biographies of Edward Irving, Susannah Wesley, and C. H. Spurgeon, whose preaching at the Metropolitan Tabernacle was frequently attended by his maternal grandfather and his mother (as a small child).

One of my nieces likes to listen to sermonaudio as she drives, using the connection between Bluetooth, smartphone, and vehicle speaker system.

A little different from the days when my best entertainment on road trips was reading The Sugar Creek Gang books!  I remember Daddy and Mama trying to get me to put away my books and watch the scenery.  The thing was, we were usually in areas where I’d already been, so I knew what it looked like, without looking.  However, the books I was reading were brand-spankin’-new, and I had no idea what was going to happen next!  So you can guess where my nose generally was glued.

Again this morning, the email twubbles resurfaced.  When Larry came home for lunch, I used his cell hotspot to get email.  He went back to work, and I was then back on our ISP's Wi-Fi.  I sent myself an email to see what would happen.  It sent okay.  A few minutes later, it tried to come in.  The email was 66.1 KB.  It crept along, trying to get it... now up to 19 B... then up to 183 B ... dropping back to 18 B... now 35 B... 

At least by using the hotspot, I had eliminated the possibility that it was my Outlook program not working.  I suggested to our Internet owner that my email might be pop-locked.  She checked... and sure enough, it was pop-locked.  She reset it, and my email came in.  Several websites (including Yahoo) that I couldn’t get to began working again.

This happens periodically ... randomly ... and can happen when I’m right in the middle of collecting email.  There is evidently some connection to my email being pop-locked and to getting to Yahoo groups or mail.  I do not route or forward mail from one address to another – yahoo, gmail, and ISP mail all stay in their respective places.

I’ve done a bit of research, but haven’t found anything about the problem.  I turned off the email scanning part of AVG; there is a possibility that can cause an issue if it delays an email when the connection to the server is still open.  This in turn can start up one of those unending pop-lock loops.  However, I don’t understand what the connection might be between being pop-locked and not being able to get to Yahoo groups.  Can’t find any information whatsoever about the issue online.

Let’s talk about a more understandable subject:  There’s a pair of turtle doves out on our front lane, cooing away.  Once they mate, they are always together, until one is sitting on the nest.  Wrens are in the Austrian pines by the back deck, warbling away.  Can they ever sing!

At 5:30 p.m., email quit working again.  So now I know AVG didn’t cause it.  But – any website I checked worked fine.  What’s going on, I wonder?  I wrote to our ISP... and soon email was coming in again, whether coincidentally or because someone ‘fixed’ it, I know not.

Time for supper!  Tonight, it will be ancient-grain-encrusted cod, sweet potatoes, and a golden-fruit conglomeration.  Uh, that’s the wrong word.  Hmmm...  Oh!  ‘Blend’!  That’s it.  ‘Golden Fruit Blend.’  It says it right on the bag.

I relate to the guy who went in the drugstore and asked for ‘acetoxybenzoic acid’.  The girl behind the counter looked at him blankly, then consulted her list.  

“Sir, would it be ‘aspirin’ you’re wanting?”

“Oh!  Yes, indeed,” he said, shaking his head ruefully.  ”I never can remember that.”

I think I'll have a cup of tea with my supper!  For Christmas 2014, Hester and Andrew gave me a large collection of teas from Hickory Farms, containing all sorts of yummy flavors.  Most, but not all, are green teas.  There are only a few teabags left; I’ve nearly used it up.

Trivia Question of the Day:

Who was the only person to strike out both Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig?

Answer:  Jackie Mitchell – a woman. 

,,,>^..^<,,,     Sarah Lynn     ,,,>^..^<,,,